


while the bars of sunset hold

by SnorkleShit



Category: The Librarians (TV 2014)
Genre: (Minor Amputation), Amputation, Angst, Ezekiel remembers, First Kiss, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Post-Episode: s02e08 And the Point of Salvation, Torture, Whump, birthday gift, h/c
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-31
Updated: 2017-05-31
Packaged: 2018-11-07 08:53:16
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,903
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11055573
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SnorkleShit/pseuds/SnorkleShit
Summary: Title from Mesopotamia by R. KiplingSure, he might still be able to be Ezekiel Jones: World Class Thief, but what if he was no longer good enough to be Ezekiel Jones: Librarian?





	while the bars of sunset hold

**Author's Note:**

  * For [fangirlandtheories](https://archiveofourown.org/users/fangirlandtheories/gifts).



> "If a man destroy the eye of another man, they shall destroy his eye.” - Code of Hammurabi, Ancient Mesopotamia
> 
> This is a belated birthday present to my best friend summer, I hope she cries over this!

Jake felt every pump of the chambers of his heart as if he had to mentally command it to keep beating. His whole world narrowed down to that effort and to one other thing: the sight of Ezekiel smiling at him in between the arms of their captors as they dragged him to an unknown doom. 

Jake felt as if the world was in slow motion, and he remembered when Jenkins had shown him a mosquito caught in amber, explaining how it had been so perfectly preserved. That was how Jake felt now, as if his world was being unexpectedly overwhelmed by the sap of reality, freezing it forever in this moment. 

_Not again, not again, please, not again, please not again -_

Jake didn’t realize he was screaming the words after Ezekiel and the goons, straining against the chains keeping him bound to the wall and unable to save his friend. Ezekiel’s eyebrows visibly furrowed at Jake, and he finally strained against the men a little, but only enough to call out to Jake:

“It’ll be okay, mate! It’s okay! It’s-” Ezekiel could not finish his return of a repetition, as one of the men’s fists crashed into his face, causing him to slump a bit. Jake felt the impact as if that man’s fist had descended with such force upon his own heart, that was struggling so hard to beat already. Maybe it had struck his heart, and it was only in moments like these that he realized it. 

Of course Ezekiel would think it’s okay. He had taunted the guards, instigated this, drawn their resentment so that when the inevitable torture came, it would come to Ezekiel first. There was no way Ezekiel was naive enough to think they would only hurt him in the long run, but Jake wasn’t a fool either. He knew what Ezekiel knew. Eve and the others would be here as soon as they could, but they couldn’t be here soon enough. Ezekiel had gone first in the hopes he could make sure he could bear the brunt before the others could arrive. But why, why? Jake wasn’t weak or sickly or unstable, why did Ezekiel always throw himself into fire like this? Why was the man so eager to get burned? 

But Jake wasn’t Ezekiel, he couldn’t find a way out of these chains even if he tried. He had to watch as Ezekiel and those bastards disappeared behind the locked door, going to do god knows what to him. Jake screwed his face up, trying not to throw up as he imagined all the things they could be doing to him. The worst came to mind in the form of violations, amputations, electrocution…these men were hell bent on wiping out anyone who didn’t want to follow them. Who knew what they were capable of? 

Jake began to rock back and forth on his knees with his eyes fixed on the light coming from underneath the cell door, waiting for what he knew was coming. Screaming. Every second that passed made his heart pound faster and his vision turn redder as he tensed, waiting to hear those bloodcurdling screams begin, terrified of how they would end. 

He didn’t know how long he waited for those screams to start. He didn’t know how long he rocked in the darkness, descending into a far deeper and bloodier void within his own mind. Every second waiting to hear Ezekiel’s cries of pain felt like a lifetime. 

He was snapped out of his spiral by shadows moving behind the door, footsteps, and then keys jingling in the lock. His heart clenched. Why were they back so soon, when it sounded like they hadn’t even started the real torture? 

Oh, god. What if they hadn’t tortured Ezekiel? What if they just killed him straight away? That thought was more terrifying than any he had yet encountered, and he held his breath as the door swung open. Once Jake’s eyes adjusted to the light, his stomach dropped out of him. Ezekiel was slumped forward between the arms of two disturbingly unsatisfied looking lackeys. But what drew Jake’s horrified gaze was Ezekiel’s hands. _Oh, god, not his hands._

Jake swallowed vomit as blood dripped onto the floor, and averted his gaze to Ezekiel’s face instead. He was shocked to find he...looked dazed, but not sickly or broken inside. He looked like he’d just woken up from a disorientating nap, and he hadn’t quite adjusted to the waking world yet. How had… _how had Ezekiel **not screamed** when they cut off both his pinky fingers and one of his ring fingers?_ It didn’t seem possible. Had they gagged him that well? Soundproof torture room? 

All horrified questions fell away as the henchmen practically tossed Ezekiel at him and slammed the door. Jake stood and moved forward as far as the chains would allow, catching a stumbling Ezekiel, undoubtedly getting blood all over him, since it was still gushing from the ends of his hands. The door slamming didn’t make either of them flinch. 

“Oh my god, fuck, shit, shit, oh my god…” Jake cursed, shakily bringing the two of them to their knees. He let Ezekiel lean forward into his lap while Jake struggled to rip at the flannel he was wearing. He couldn’t strip it off with these chains on, so he took to using his teeth on the shoulder of it and his hands to rip it to shreds while it was still on him. Every time Jake bumped Ezekiel in his efforts, Jake winced, but Ezekiel didn’t. And somehow, that terrified him even more. Jake gathered the scraps of his shirt and took a deep breath, preparing himself. 

“Hey, Jones, buddy? I’m gonna wrap your h-hands up, okay? We gotta, uh, stop the bleeding.” Jake tried his best to make sure his voice didn’t break, but he failed. He didn’t know what he expected in response - nothing, crying, anger? But what he got was a slow nod, and Ezekiel struggling to sit up, his hands held to his chest. 

“Mmm, good idea..” Ezekiel agreed, his voice a little weak, but not very distressed. Jake furrowed his brow as he began to wrap the wounds. Ezekiel didn’t even flinch as he drew the rough fabric over the bloody stumps at each base knuckle. When Jake spotted the bone, he drew in a sharp breath, and felt hot tears finally spill over his eyes. This drew the attention of Ezekiel, whose bowed forward head was at just the right angle to watch the tear fall from Jake’s jaw to his bloody lap. Ezekiel tilted his head up a bit, leaning into the crook of Jake’s neck a little more. 

“Hey, it’s ‘kay, remember?” Ezekiel insisted. HIs voice was slightly slurred, as if he was drowsy, which wasn't surprising based on the amount of blood that had soaked the two of them in this short time. Jake would have to keep pressure on the wounds. At Ezekiel’s words, however, Jake momentarily halted.

“No, it’s _not_ okay, Jones, how can you say that? Your hands…” Jake’s eys flicked down to the one in his grasp, grimacing. HIs face screwed up even further as he imagined what the future would hold for poor Ezekiel. “You _needed_ your fingers, Ezekiel, what were you thinking? I- I could have -” Jake’s voice shredded in his throat as Ezekiel frowned up at him in a newfound upsetness, shaking his head slightly from side to side. Then Ezekiel chuckled. _Chuckled_. How could he laugh at a time like this?

Ezekiel laid his head against Jake’s shoulder and closed his eyes, the faint trace of an amused smile on his exhausted features. Jake stared down at him in utter confusion, fingers stumbling to tie off the blood soaked bandages. 

“You - you must be in shock. That’s why you’re like this. Once we’re back at the Library you’ll wake up and you’ll hate me for not-” Jake began to breath, words getting faster and faster before Ezekiel reached one of his injured hands up to rest a remaining finger against his lips. All the while, he didn’t move his head from Jake’s shoulder or open his eyes. How could he move his hand through the pain so easily? 

“Jesus Christ, you were never this emotional before…” Ezekiel groaned in tired annoyance. His tone was so distant but _casual_...Jake wondered if he was losing his mind. “Although,” Ezekiel added after a tired smack of his dry lips. “I s’pose that a burnt palm isn’t the same as this nip/tuck job here. I’m leaving one star on Yelp, by the way, mate.” 

With that, the finger at his lips fell away, and Ezekiel tucked his arms gingerly between the two of them. Jake swallowed, wrapping his arms around Ezekiel in response. 

“You’re crazy, you know that, kiddo?” Jake muttered in disbelief, looking at the door instead of Ezekiel finally, at a complete loss. Ezekiel huffed out a weak laugh against his neck, and Jake suddenly felt the overwhelming urge to start crying again. Then he blinked, as his mind stumbled over a part of what had just happened. 

“Wait, what did you mean by last time, what burnt palm?” Jake asked, but when he looked back down at Ezekiel, the younger Librarian had passed out. Jake’s heart skipped, and he tried not to scream in terror. Instead he took a deep breath and held the unconscious Librarian closer to him, praying to keep him warm after all that blood loss. Praying for the others to get here before those men came back and finished the job. 

Luckily or unluckily, Jake wasn’t quite sure yet, Ezekiel’s gamble paid off. The next time the door opened, instead of men coming to torture Jake next or Ezekiel again, it was Eve and the others, their faces going as pale as stars when their eyes settled on the scene in front of them. Cassandra made a sound like a wounded animal and almost fell over when she realized what they had done to Ezekiel, when she saw the blood and the bandages, Flynn having to catch her when she swayed to the side. 

“No…” Eve whispered, her heartbreak visible on her face as she stared down at the two of them. “Not his hands…” 

\---------------------

Ezekiel woke up to someone whispering over his bedside. Make that two someone’s. 

“They’re searching as hard as they can. They’ll find something that’ll work.” Eve’s voice was saying, as if trying to reassure someone. The person she was comforting couldn’t be him, he hadn’t opened his eyes or moved yet. 

“What if they don’t? What if he can’t - he can’t - ” Jake’s voice replied, and _holy shit, was Jake crying?_ At that, memories rushed back. The two of them, on a mission alone...they’d been captured, and the men had been about to torture Jake. Ezekiel had called them small peckered wombats, and they had...changed their minds. That was the last he remembered before it all became a blur. What if they hadn’t changed their minds? What if they had hurt Jake too? 

Ezekiel snapped open his eyes, turning towards the sound of Jake’s voice, eyes raving over him, searching for the cause of his tears. Jake was sitting in a chair next to his bedside, leaning against the arm of it with his head in his hands, his eyes red. He had no visible injuries, besides the bruises they’d gotten in the fight that lead to their capture.Those same eyes widened when they met Ezekiel’s, and both Jake and Eve practically jumped in their skin as they rushed to his side. 

Jake wasn’t injured. Then why had he been crying? Ezekiel frowned up at their concern in their eyes, and then he became aware of the dull pain. He must be on drugs, based on how sluggish and distant he felt, so there was no wonder that he was surprised to find he was in pain. His hands hurt like a bitch, but it was fuzzy. He dared look down, wincing as he lifted them up from the blankets.

“Ezekiel-” Eve said, and she was crying as well, her voice breaking. He looked up at her, furrowing his brow at the tears streaming over both their faces. He had never seen them like this, he took a moment to process both developments. His fingers where gone. Not all of them, though. He remembered now, it came back to him in a sudden clarity as he stared at the bandages, and the air where his fingers used to be. 

 

He remembered how they’d jeered about him being a _world class thief_ , about what they were going to do to Jake once they where done, how the Library would have no use for him without the only thing he could do. They’d held him down on his knees and forced his hand onto a metal anvil, their leader had pulled out a ridiculously large knife, and Ezekiel distinctly remembered what happened next with intense sharpness. He moved his remaining fingers back and forth as much as he could in the bandages, making both Jake and Eve wince. They both held their breath as they watched him, but he made no sign of feeling the pain it surely must have caused. 

He then glanced at them, and at their pain. It was on his behalf. His heart twisted with something profound, and he set his hands back down on the blanket. They both winced once more, and he tilted his head at them. Then he smiled, the grin spreading across his face with a strangely wise quality to it. They both stared at him in shock, sure they must not be seeing things wrong. 

“Why-why are you smiling?” Jake stuttered in confusion. Ezekiel’s expression was soft, but it glowed with a peaceful joy that was completely inappropriate for this situation. But he just shrugged, shaking his head in amusement. 

“Don’t you lot get it? Now i’m going to be an even bigger badass!” He exclaimed, wiggling his eyebrows at them, praying it would cheer them up. They just stared at him still, further confused. 

“What are you talking about? You - Ezekiel,” Eve’s voice cracked, and she balled her hands into fists as she carried on,”We used all of Bathsheba’s Healing Oil to save my life from Dulaque. There was a reason that Flynn used that every time he needed healing, instead of any other healing artifact we have. All the others come at a huge cost. We’re trying to find -” 

Ezekiel held up a bandaged hand to stop her mid speech, shaking his head and straining to push his smile even further, looking between the two of them and practically begging them to relax with his gaze. 

“Haven’t I ever told you about the time I stole a gun out of a cop’s hand with just three fingers?” Ezekiel asked them incredulously. They blinked, looking at each other, and then back at his smile and the emotions in his eyes. 

“You’re...really not...devastated? Because it’s okay to be upset, Ezekiel, it is. You don’t have to pretend for us.” Eve said, stepping closer to his bed. Ezekiel sighed. He could tell he wasn’t going to win this battle easily. Then he reached out his hand, and took Eve’s in between his bandages gently. Fresh tears sprung from her eyes as she stared at the bandages, knowing what wasn’t beneath anymore. 

“I’m going to be the greatest thief in history, now, Eve. They’re going to write songs about the great Ezekiel Jones, the - “ Ezekiel stopped mid sentence, looking down at his hands and counting before looking back up at her. “ - the seven fingered world class thief!” 

A half-choked laugh forced it’s way out of Eve’s throat, and she reached to wrap her arms around Ezekiel, burying her lips in his hair to kiss his head. 

“How can you be such a pessimist all the time and then find silver linings in things like this?” Eve demanded, her voice muffled by his locks. He chuckled into where his face was pressed into her torso, and gave her no response. 

_Don’t ever change, Jones._  
_Why would I?_

 

Oops?

\-----------

Jake rarely left Ezekiel’s side in the coming days, unless it was to fetch something for them. Jenkins and Eve insisted Ezekiel rest until they found something to heal him, and Jake insisted on keeping him company. To be perfectly honest, Jake was waiting for the other shoe to drop. There was no way Ezekiel could really be this fine with it, with losing some of his _fingers._ It just didn't make sense. 

They played games and watched tv on a monitor Jenkins had brought into the room. The room they were in was strange, it seemed to be the Library’s attempt at creating an infirmary for them. Ironically, the room had made itself known after a particularly rough bar fight Jake had gotten into. Jake was grateful for its comfortable chairs. 

One day, when Jake and Ezekiel were eating lunch, Jake couldn't take it any longer. Neither of them had talked about what had happened really, between themselves yet. Jake watched Ezekiel struggle to use a fork, his heart twisting, before he decided to finally say what had been plaguing him this whole time.

“When ...when they took you away,” Jake began, his voice harsh. Ezekiel’s movements completely froze, but he didn't look up at Jake. Jake swallowed and carried on shakily.

“When they took you away, I was waiting...I was waiting to hear you scream. But you never did.” Jake whispered, almost afraid of his own voice. Ezekiel slowly swallowed the food that was already in his mouth, face carefully guarded as he stared down at the plate in his lap.

“Guess I'm not much of a screamer.” Ezekiel replied easily, too easily. Jake pursed his lips, chest tight. 

“How is that even _possible_?!” Jake asked. Ezekiel shrugged, shaking his head, praying this line of questions would die out. 

“I have a high pain tolerance, I guess.” Ezekiel offered. Jake narrowed his eyes, beginning to get frustrated with the smoke and mirrors. Always smoke and mirrors with the so called honest thief.

“You used to whine about just a bruise for hours, like when we were trying to help Mabel and Eve took over your body.” Jake answered. Ezekiel's annoyance spiked, and he looked up at Jake with a guarded, angry expression.

“That was _before_!” Ezekiel answered in aggravation. Jake’s eyes widened. Now he was onto something.

“Before _what?_ ” Jake demanded. Ezekiel seemed to realize his mistake, as his jaw snapped shut and he turned his head away again. This time, however, he didn't even bother to reply to Jake. 

“Fine! If that’s how you’re gonna be…” Jake huffed, standing up and striding out of the hall. Ezekiel winced at the slam of the door behind Jake. After a few moments of echoing silence, Ezekiel looked down at his hands. _What was left of them_. 

He was Ezekiel Jones. He was adaptable. He would adapt to this, he had assured them, he assured himself. Just like he had adapted in the video game loop, in whatever way he had had to. Yet, not matter how he reassured himself, his heart started to pound harder with every second. He could barely use a fork. How was he supposed to do everything he had once done- sure, he could still learn to do a lot, surely. But he would never be able to do it as fast, as effortlessly, as perfectly...what if he couldn’t do it fast enough for what he needed? He was a Librarian. At least, he was supposed to be. He needed to be the best, that was the only reason the Library had invited someone like _him_ here, when he had been so young, when he had done so much wrong...because he was the best. 

Sure, he could go back to stealing. He could probably still make a crazy good name for himself, pulling off heists with seven fingers. Living the richest life he could. People would be so impressed, he wouldn’t have to worry about a dip in his international reputation. That was what the others were so worried about, he knew, why they had been crying. Because he was only worth something if he was a good thief, if he could steal. 

But being a _thief_ wasn’t the most important thing to him anymore. It had been, once. Once upon a time, not too long ago, had this happened to him, he would have surely lost his mind. He would be raving mad with the need to find a fix, a magical way to get his fingers back so he could remain the perfectly sculpted image of _Ezekiel Jones: World Class Thief, doesn’t give a shit about you or anyone else._ He nearly laughed at the memory, the memory of who he had been. Who everyone thought he was, still. God, what an idiot. What a fool. He had cared about so much, and had been pretending not to care about anything at all...as much as he attempted to cover his new self up with the remnants of that image, for the sake of the other’s adjusting, he found it harder with every passing day. 

Sometimes, he wanted to rip it off and scream his true self out with abandon. Like a pot finally boiling over. Most of the time, these days, he couldn’t help himself. Especially in tense situations. The others had surely noticed the changes by now, but he didn’t know what they thought of it. Maybe the pretense and the pretense slipping could combine to help them adjust faster. Maybe if they thought this change was coming over him slowly, it would be easier.

_Easier for them, or for you?_ He often asked himself, with no response. 

Now nothing would ever be easy for him again. He moved his hands closer to him, taking a deep breath through the feelings coursing through his nerves and his heart. Sure, he might still be able to be Ezekiel Jones: World Class Thief, but what if he was no longer good enough to be Ezekiel Jones: Librarian? 

What if they were in a life and death situation, and it all depended on him and his skills, and he failed because he wasn’t the best anymore? What if he was too slow or too clumsy and his friends _died_ because of it? And if he couldn’t be a Librarian, where would he go? This was his home. This was his family. They were more than that - after everything that had happened, they were the reason he took every breath. But there was no way they could feel the same, so what if once he was useless, once their pity dried up, their hearts would finally let go of him. But he couldn’t leave, he couldn’t let go of them, he couldn’t be anything else other than being someone that was by their side. He didn’t know if he could survive that. 

It would be a far worse torture, for sure.

Suddenly overwhelmed by a hauntingly familiar hopelessness, Ezekiel bowed his head forward, tears leaking out of the corners of his eyes. He did his best to keep the turmoil he felt inside, but before he knew it, sobs were forcing their way out of him as they racked his body. Ezekiel circled further downward, curling around his arms and hands, sobbing into his knees as he tried to remember how to breath. 

Just as it seemed like the cold was closing in on him, a searingly warm, callused hand came to press against his back, right over his pounding heart. He jumped, and Jake hushed him, leaning in close and putting his other palm on Ezekiel’s thigh. 

“I’m sorry, i’m sorry, I shouldn’t have left like that. This is all my fault, I shouldn’t be interrogating you and then yelling at you, I’m sorry…” Jake whispered, his own breath sounding like he was trying not to cry again himself. Ezekiel hitched his breath, trying to halt his sobs, looking up at Jake.

“What did you just say?” Ezekiel asked. Jake worried his cheek in between his molars as he rubbed his palm against Ezekiel’s back in a comforting manner.

“I said i’m sorry.” Jake repeated sincerely. Ezekiel shook his head, reaching to wipe his face on his sleeve. Then he leaned in closer to Jake, and tried to will Jake to keep making eye contact with him. 

“No. You said this is your fault.” He whispered seriously. Jake’s face looked like a building collapsing in on itself, and his hands began to tremble where they rested against the other Librarian’s skin. He shook his head, looking down at the space between them.

“I know you were distracting them from me. I’m a master, I trained with the freaking _Monkey King_ , I should have been able to stop them -” Jake began to explain, but Ezekiel opted out of hearing the rest of his explanation by pressing the flat side of his elbow against Jake’s lips. Jake blinked at him, noticing the mimicry of his handshake with Eve. 

“Shut up, you idiot. This isn’t your fault. Yeah, you’re right. When those men walked into that cell I knew they were going to torture one of us, maybe kill one of us, and I made that choice for them because I wanted to more than I want any piece of gold in the world. God, and you call me narcissistic. I made that choice, Jake, not you, so you can’t just go around claiming blame. Where’s that sentiment when you actually fuck me over?” Ezekiel chastised him, pulling his arm away as he spoke. Jake stared at him in utter awe and confusion.

“Why?” Was all the southern man could summon from the vocabulary to express himself. Ezekiel’s lip trembled, and he licked them to stop it, glancing away. Part of him felt...strangely nostalgic. He shook his head, unsure how to explain this and amazed that he even had to. It was just...a fact of reality, to Ezekiel. 

“I would cut off my own hands and feet if it meant I could keep you safe.” Ezekiel breathed, shrugging. It sounded like common sense coming from Ezekiel’s lips, but Jake almost recoiled when he heard the words.

“What? No. You can’t- You couldn’t - You can’t say stuff like that!” Jake exclaimed. Ezekiel shifted to fix him with a firmer gaze, searching his shocked expression. Then Ezekiel smiled, reaching to rest a hand on Jake’s shoulder.

“It’s okay. It’s the truth. It’s just how I would react, it’s not like i’m actually gonna start taking that big hacksaw to myself.” Ezekiel tried to reassure him. But Jake only shook his head further. 

“But it _did_ happen, Jones! And I - I - “ Jake looked so confused, kneeling beside his bedside, mouth opening and closing with no sound while he stared up at Ezekiel. Ezekiel sighed, his shoulders slumping. 

“You want to understand. You don’t understand why,” Ezekiel whispered in understanding, his eyes dropping from Jake’s gaze to his shoes while he carried on. “...because you think i’m me...” 

Jake’s eyes widened, and it seemed like he had stopped breathing. He knew. He knew the echo of the one loop they both remembered. Ezekiel swallowed, struggling to draw a breath himself. He looked back up at Jake, his expression now open, full of the vulnerability he had been trying to cover up ever since the video game loop. 

“That’s why you have to promise me you won’t let them make me leave, if - if I can’t do everything like I used to. I can’t do anything else ever again. I can’t be with anyone else. Please, even if I can’t be a Librarian anymore, I could - “ Ezekiel took a deep breath, waving one of his bandaged hands towards the infirmary in general. “I could stay here, I could be like Jenkins, helping out, building things and fixing things, god, i’ll even figure out where the brooms are and clean up -” 

Jake cut him off with a kiss, which was, frankly, the last thing Ezekiel expected in that moment. His lips were and tasted like dried tears, tears that had been spilled at his expense. Ezekiel was embarrassed to hear himself whimper as Jake’s tongue invited itself into his mouth, and Ezekiel’s spine nearly turned to jelly. When Jake pulled away, Ezekiel was breathless, and some of his hair was sticking up where Jake had run his hands through it. Jake reached to cup his face, reaching to brush his hair down for him as Ezekiel recovered from the shock and the passion of the kiss. 

“The Library didn’t invite you because of how fast you can pick locks or code, Ezekiel. Just like it didn’t pick me for me knowledge of mid-century art forms and it didn’t pick Cassandra because of her tumor or her magic.” Jake assured him. “The Library chose Ezekiel Jones because the LIbrary needed Ezekiel Jones, remember?” 

Ezekiel felt like Jake’s voice had been shot like lightning right into his heart, and he bowed forward again, but this time he was curling into Jake’s waiting arms, breathing in the truth of his words and his presence.


End file.
